Reawakenings
by girlwithangelwings
Summary: "He isn't welcomed by coffee coloured arms or warm lips, but by the sight of freckled skin, red hair sticking in all directions and an overwhelming urge to cry." George wakes up in a different life. Is it really better? Feorgelina.


**A.N. Okay so this is a sadder kind of prompt (isn't Feorge always sorta sad?). Inspired by prompt "Waking up in the life you always wanted." Let me know what you think! I might make an extended version of this. Love, girlwithangelwings  
**

The door closes softly behind him, disappearing, and the lanky ginger walks the familiar route. He shouldn't know the route by heart, shouldn't even be here. And yet he does this every year on the second of May.

He stops in front of the tall mirror and reads. 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'.

He leans his hand against the glass and watches with burning blue eyes as the figure in front of him appears, smiles and takes the same position. It's like watching his reflection, except the man on the other side of the mirror isn't crying.

"Hiya, Freddie," he whispers. "Eight years today. Time flies, ya know, we're 28 already. Or well, I am." Forced laughter echoes through the room. "Angie is pregnant, Gred. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm gonna be a dad in about two weeks. You're gonna be an uncle. Fuck, why aren't you here. I'm not ready for this. I need you so much, I miss you so much." He crashes to his knees and leans his forehead unto the cold glass, tears dripping unto the floor. "I can't do this. How I be a dad when I can't even take care of myself? I can't live on without you. I don't want this marriage, I don't want this kid. I just want _you_ here. I'd give everything, just to hold you once more. Just once…"

He wakes the next morning with the sun burning on his eyelids. The warmth of his wife's body has left the bed, so he turns onto his stomach and groans when the door opens.

But it isn't Angelina's voice that calls out "Wake up, sleeping beauty."

The door closes again and for a moment George thinks he just spoke to himself again. But the voice wasn't muffled by the pillow his face is currently mushed in. His head shoots up when he realises that. He doesn't even bother with pants as he storms out of his bedroom, through the living room, into the kitchen. He isn't welcomed by coffee coloured arms or warm lips, but by the sight of freckled skin, red hair sticking in all directions and an overwhelming urge to cry.

"Morning, Georgie. Slept well?" Fred asks as he fusses with the frying pan filled with bacon and eggs.

Fred casts a glance over his shoulder to a stunned George and curses.

"By Merlin, couldn't you at least put on some underwear?"

"Yes, sorry. Underwear, yes…" George mutters as he retreats into the bedroom.

This cannot be happening. This is a dream, someone cast a crazy spell on him. He rubs his eyes, splashes water into his face and puts on pants and a T-shirt. He walks back into the kitchen with closed eyes, slowly opening them to the sight of… Fred. He is still there, sitting at the dinner table, munching away on his eggs, looking exactly like he always did, only eight years older.

"Hey, pants. Happy sight. Here, eat," he says, shoving a plate of food towards his twin and concentrates on his own until George sits down and blinks in confusion. "So, I was thinking," Fred starts without looking up, "about how we totally should create an adult fun section of products. I know you hate the idea, but get this, what if we…" he finally gazes up, frowning at the sight of George's tears. "Dude, are you okay? Why the fuck are you crying? Do I have something stuck between my teeth?"

He moves his tongue up and down his bared teeth.

"Nah, you look… perfectly fine."

"As always. So anyway - wow. Why are you hugging me?"

George has leaped around the table so fast Fred didn't see it coming until he was wrapped in George's arms and he felt tears dripping on his shoulder.

"You were dead," he manages when he pulls away after what seems like forever.

"What are you talking about? I know I got in late last night, but Angie just wouldn't let me go. You know like… A bang-bang, a bangity-bang, a bang-bang-bangity-bang."

He sings the last bit with a happy smile, ignoring George's glares.

"You slept with my wife?"

"Your wife? Oh, not the true love speech again. Listen up, Georgie. We are two single pringles, ready to rock the world with our awesomeness. We shouldn't be tied down by one woman, we shouldn't keep the amazing gift we are away from the girls, should we? That would be a disgrace. But yeah, I've been boinking Angie ever since Yule Ball, you know that. Sit down and eat your breakfast. We have a busy day today. We have a symposium to get to. Do you think we should wear our matching suits for the press conference? It'll totally get chicks to swarm all over us. D'ya wanna share a girl tonight again?" Fred prattles on, while George zones out after 'Yule Ball'.

He isn't together with Angelina, he isn't going to be a dad?

"George, what on earth is up with you? Ugh, be insulted all you want about Angie. Imma shower. Finish your food, yeah? I need you to be all strong and sexy."

Fred gets up and disappears into the bathroom of the flat they used to share, but that George is now supposed to share with his pregnant wife of two years. George leaves the table and wanders around the living room, that is much messier than Angelina would ever let it become, much manlier. The walls are covered in articles about the WWW, the war heroes, Dumbledore's army and - wait. He and Fred defeated Voldemort? He grabs another article and looks at it with shock: "Second of May, remembering fallen Hero Harry". Harry died and he and Fred are heroes instead? Then… Ginny isn't married to the brat? He falls down onto the couch and breathes heavily. He has the life he has been secretly dreaming about ever since Fred died. He is a hero, Fred is alive. But… Angelina isn't here.

He took her for granted. He didn't want her in his life as much as he wanted Fred and now look at what it has become. He is a 28 year old playboy who shares girls with his brother and sees the love of his life boinking the same brother. Great, just great. Capital G, reat. Great. He looks at a family picture on the coffee table. Bill and Fleur with their tiny Victoire and hey look, Dominique has become a boy. Ginny and Michael Corner, the boyfriend he always liked best. Percy and that Audrey girl with none of their annoying nosy daughters. Then Fred and himself. Ron and that daft bimbo Lavender, how did that happen? Oh look, Hermione is there, but with Charlie? What is wrong with the world? Happiness in strange places, he supposes, and happiness is all he ever wanted for his siblings. But no Angelina. No baby. This is weird.

He is distracted by Fred's voice booming from the shower, singing a Weird Sisters song. He has what he always wanted. He never wanted kids and at first only wanted Angelina because she reminded him so much of Fred and he is sure that's why she wanted him. But even in this universe, he's in love with her, Fred just told him so. He believes Angelina is his true love, even when he is supposed to be a crazy playboy.

The life he always wanted doesn't even suit him.

Fred slides out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, blaring the female part of duet into a hairbrush. When he comes to the man part, he holds out his brush to George. But he doesn't sing.

He slowly gets up from the couch, walks over to Fred and hugs him.

"Dude, again? What is it with you today? I'm really not into twincest, ya know."

"I love you, man. But this isn't my life."

"George. George, honey. Wake up."

A glance at his alarm clock tells him it's 4.30 AM on May the third. He knows that voice. He rolls over with a broad grin and crushes his wife into a hug. He is back in his normal life.

"I love you," he tells her, kissing her face in all places he can reach.

He has never been happier to see her, even though this means Fred is really gone.

"That's lovely, honey. But I kinda need you to get the bag and get off of me. My water just broke."

His watch reads 4.30 PM on May the third when his son is placed in his arms. Tears pool in his eyes as he stares at the ginger tufts of hair, the bright blue eyes and the cute button nose.

"What will you be naming the little angel?" a nurse asks.

The baby focuses his eyes on George and seems to wink at him.

"Fred," George announces with a proud smile.

He finally has the life he has dreamt of for eight years: Angelina and Fred.


End file.
